A Little More Conversation
by sunburntdaisy
Summary: Begins early season 3. Another what if... Peter said goodbye before he leaves on retreat.
1. Changing Times

--- Changing Times ---

"Next Week." He struggled to remain where he was, watching her bite back tears.  
"Thank you for telling me." She refused to look at him and feared even those few words would escape her lips in sobs. "At least I know I've made the right decision."  
His resolve to be decided and firm, in her presence at least, was wavering dangerously. "What decision?"  
"Assumpta! Customers!" Padraig's voice was barely muffled by the kitchen door.  
"Excuse me, I've got customers." She desperately grasped at composure, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

He waited, hoping she'd return and give him an answer - what decision? Then he realized what he was really waiting for, hoping for... He let himself out the back door, paused on the step and took a deep breath. Four days, maybe five, and he'd be gone. Would anything change? Four days' test might give him some hint. Would he think of her less?

He did not return to Fitzgerald's that evening and for the next three days he was easily busy with his duties, visiting Ambrose, helping Niamh, babysitting Kiaran and wrapping things up in preparation for several weeks' absence.

The evening before he left he changed into his jeans, sat down to his dinner and tried, as he had all week, not to think of her. He'd not seen her since she walked out of her kitchen. He would be away three weeks. Four days had not been enough distance to remove her from his thoughts. Perhaps three weeks would. If not... He was so restless. He must find out what her decision was. He could not explain why it was so important. He ate quickly, put on his jacket and walked down to Fitzgerald's.

Assumpta put Niamh's drink on the bar, walked around and picked up Kiaran.  
"Hello young man. How are you?" She smiled at the babies happy face, chubby and pink in all the right places. "Oh, I'm going to miss you."  
"How long do you plan to be away?" Niamh drank fairly quickly, her eye on the clock, her mind on Ambrose's medication.  
Assumpta shrugged. "Don't worry. I've never been able to stay away long."  
"Where are you going?" Peter made his presence known. He stood awkwardly beside the next barstool.  
"Good evening Father." Niamh said.  
"Evening." He replied.  
"Father." Assumpta went back behind the bar, carrying Kiaran. "It's alright Niamh, relax. What'll it be?"  
"Oh, just a lager."  
Assumpta nodded and poured the drink, putting it on the bar and busying herself entertaining Kiaran.  
Peter sat down by Niamh and put his coins on the bar. "How's Ambrose doing?"  
"Alright. Half an hour till his next medications are due and he was sleeping. Kiaran doesn't know why he has to be quiet so I thought he could entertain the punters here a while."  
Assumpta went to put Kiaran back in the pram as customers entered.  
Peter grinned, "May I?" On Niamh's nod he lifted Kiaran from his pram and bounced him on his knee.  
Assumpta's attention was pulled back to them by Kiaran's laugh. Peter could feel her eyes on him and eventually looked at her. "So, you're leaving then?" His attempt at nonchalance, however misguided, had failed.  
She nodded, now avoiding eye contact, nervous. She knew he was leaving tomorrow. She'd been hoping for and dreading his coming tonight. Similarly in tension, she wanted to leave things on good terms before their departures, and she wanted him to speak more honestly, more simply, than the code and suggestions that plagued their friendship. She was very much aware it was unlikely she could have it both ways.  
Niamh soon got up to take Kiaran home. Assumpta watched Kiaran laugh at Peter and once Niamh was out of earshot she spoke. "Such wasted talent."  
"Huh?" Peter picked up his lager and took a drink.  
"You're a natural, but you'll not likely be a parent."  
"No." He wasn't sure why he felt she'd asked a question.  
"But I suppose it comes in handy - get 'em while they're young."  
He smiled. Her tone was teasing, not cruel. He didn't want a fight and he wasn't going to walk into it with his eyes open. "So, where are you headed?"  
"London." She folded a tea towel but didn't have to be looking at him to know he'd been as surprised as Niamh.  
"Oh. Right. What's in London?"  
"Friends, work, opportunity for further study - not sure exactly what I'm doing yet."  
"Exciting."  
"Scary."  
He nodded. "Are you coming back?"  
"I always do." She finally looked him in the eye. "I don't know. Probably."  
Customers came in and Assumpta went off to serve them. Peter sipped his beer, occasionally turning to watch her. Brendan entered and joined him, asking him about his retreat, how long he'd be away. Assumpta eavesdropped when she returned to the bar, filling orders.  
"Usual Brendan?" She finally ran out of other things to do.  
"Thanks." He put his coin on the bar and Peter realised his was still there.  
When she came back he held it out to her.  
"It's on the house. Call it a goodbye present."  
"But you're leaving too."  
"What?" Brendan looked up from his stout.  
"Oh, I thought - sorry." Peter put his money back in his pocket while Assumpta told Brendan of her plans and answered his questions.  
"You better not stay away too long."  
"It's okay. Niamh's going to run the bar. You'll still get your drinks."  
"Not the same. Am I right Father?"  
Peter hesitated, afraid he'd give too much away. He met Assumpta's eyes. "Yeah."  
"Nice to know I'll be missed. Excuse me," She went to serve customers at the other end of the bar.  
Eventually Brendan got up to go home. "I'll walk with you Father."  
"Oh, ah," He turned in his stool, "Actually..."  
"S'alright. Have another. Why not? If I don't see you before you go, have a safe trip. And don't go getting any ideas about going back to England. Assumpta'll come to her senses eventually."  
He left, leaving Peter trying to understand what he'd meant. He looked around and realised the place was empty but for him. Standing, he went behind the bar and stood in the kitchen doorway, memories coming back to him in a rush. Assumpta was leaning forward, her hands on the bench, staring out the window into the night, taking deep, controlled breaths.  
"You okay?"  
She straightened but kept her back to him. "I'm fine." Far from convincing.  
"Can I give you a hand?"  
She shook her head. "You want to say goodbye?" When he hesitated she turned finally to face him.  
"I s'pose. I wanted to apologise, and talk. But you're probably exhausted. Let me help with this." He turned on his heal, nervous and wanting something to keep his hands busy. In the bar he collected glasses together on the bar and wiped down a few tables.  
Assumpta followed him through when she'd managed to get back her composure. She took the glassware from the bar through to the kitchen and started doing the dishes. What was there to talk about? He was helping for sure, but torturing her by his very presence, probably more so for his attempts at kindness and friendship.  
When he picked up a tea towel to dry the dishes she was washing, she broke her silence. "What do you want Peter?"  
He kept busy, thinking of his answer. "That's why I'm going away - to figure that out."  
"So that's why."  
"Yeah, to get some distance, put things in perspective."  
"Nice way of saying running away."  
He took a deep breath. "Maybe."  
"I'm hardly one to talk I s'pose."  
He hesitated, but he'd not have another chance. "Why are you going?"  
"To see if there's something more for me than this. Distance, perspective, that sort of thing."  
"And if there is?"  
She sighed. "I don't know Peter. Something has to change."  
He nodded. "Yeah." Several dishes later he continued. "I didn't want to leave like that - and I thought it would only be three weeks. This, I suppose, is even more of a catalyst."  
"A catalyst for what?" She pulled the plug and watched the water drain away.  
"Assumpta," he stopped and put down the glass.  
She turned to him. "Just say it. Put it into words."  
"This is very hard for me." His voice was about to give way and his face strained with the effort to keep his emotions under wraps.  
She couldn't bare to see him in pain and gave in. "I know. I know. Perhaps a little distance is what we need."  
"Perhaps."  
"Leave them." She took the tea towel from his hand and hung it over the back of a chair.  
He walked back through to the bar, picked up his jacket and turned to find she'd followed him. "Have a good trip."  
"You too."  
They both waited a moment in silence but neither would say more and neither dared initiate any kind of physical contact. With a simple nod Peter turned and left. Assumpta closed and locked the door, and only then did she let out the heavy sighs, so close to sobs, of confusion and frustration, escape her lips. 


	2. Absence of Mind

--- Absence of Mind ---

Leo was comforting. His touch was familiar, kind and satisfying. Every thought of Peter she pushed from her mind but he kept coming back. Assumpta waved through the cafe window and stepped onto the bus. Over lunch he'd asked her to marry him. Again. She'd said she needed time - to think. Time... wasn't really solving anything. She'd been away from home for a month now, and it had been longer still since she'd seen Peter. They'd agreed they needed time and distance. She wondered if it was making any difference on his end. Silence and solitude she was yet to try. Distraction and business had been her medicine of choice. Friends, job opportunities and Leo. She was living the high life, out most nights, spending every cent she earned and sleeping all day on Sundays to recover.

For all that, she missed Ballykissangel. What or who else she missed, she would not dwell on. That evening she worked till ten. Leo picked her up in his gorgeous car. He said nothing of his proposal but rabbited on happily about some exciting story. She was tired and listened contentedly, glad he didn't require much from her end of the conversation. Back at his house, she changed into more comfortable clothes and he made them a cup of tea. She was sleeping on the couch - though she knew the invitation remained open to share his bed. Not that she wasn't tempted. Losing herself in him would be yet another attempt to forget and he deserved better. But she could feel her resolve slipping.  
Leo handed her the hot cup and sat beside her. "So, busy night?"  
"Yeah. But it makes time go fast."  
"Ah, that's only a good thing if you don't like what you're doing."  
"Would you bog off?" She pushed him and he slopped his tea with a gasp.  
She jumped up, putting her cup down and apologising. "Let me just..." she went and got a tea towel.  
"It's fine. Assumpta," He took the towel, "Much as I'd enjoy that."  
She sat down again, sighed. "I think I want to go home. Maybe not immediately, but to be honest, I don't want to stay here forever."  
He nodded.  
"I'm sorry Leo. I guess its just not meant to be." She wasn't even sure she believed in that anymore.  
"Why?"  
"Well, you're firmly planted here and despite my attempts to uproot, home is Ballk."  
"So I'll move to Ballyk. I'm not so firmly planted as you think. Until a year ago home was Dublin."  
She hesitated. If he would move to be with her - risk everything, his career, leave his friends...  
The memory popped into her head unbidden. Peter leaning back on the bench, "This is very hard for me," She'd desperately wanted to comfort him, and yet she wanted a straight answer. What would he have said if she'd waited?  
"Assumpta," Leo called her back to reality. "I'll leave y'alone - true you're probably exhausted."  
She nodded and thanked him.


	3. I Know When I'm Not Wanted

Peter returned to Ballyk to find his house had been rented out and Fitzgerald's virtually dead. Siobhan and Brendan sat as far apart as they possibly could while remaining at the same bar. Niamh poured him a beer and he sat in the middle beside another bar owner from Cilldargen- McLogan. Peter had missed this place all too much in his absence,and with the lively memory in his mind he walked right into McLogan's challenge - a battle of the bars.  
"But that's just it." he tried to explain to Niamh, "This place needs a big event to get everybody talking again."  
"We'll be getting one of those."  
His forehead wrinkled with a question.  
"I shouldn't have said anything." She ran off into the kitchen to calm Kiaran.  
"What's all the mystery?" He followed her.  
"It's not my place to tell you."  
"I'm your priest. If you can't confide me..."  
After a moment, she caved. "You remember Assumpta's old boyfriend Leo, from college?"  
"The reporter who came to cover the election. What about him?"  
"He's getting married."  
"Oh, who to?"  
She just looked at him.  
"Assumpta," he grasped at hiding the strength of his reaction.  
Niamh was clearly excited at the prospect.  
Peter said something about needing to organise the tournament and, promising not to tell, escaped. Niamh had said too much, and at the same time not enough. Was she coming home? Were they getting married here? Oh, heavens, would they ask him to officiate? Surely not. Assumpta probably wouldn't want a church wedding anyway.  
Fortunately he had plenty to keep him busy. Recruiting contestants wasn't so difficult, finding a seed of enthusiasm on the other hand, nigh impossible.

Niamh was having no better luck getting the regulars talking again, despite selling them liquor.  
"Hi Niamh." Assumpta entered without warning, "I see you've rounded up the usual suspects."  
"Assumpta..." Niamh stopped mid-pour.  
"Back from the big smoke?" Padraig cheered up visibly.  
"How was your trip?" Siobhan asked.  
"Oh, y'know."  
"Come here you," Niamh skirted around the bar.  
"Hi," Assumpta hugged her friend, ignoring her significant looks.  
"What'll you have 'Sumpta?" Brendan turned out the barstool beside his.  
"Hi Assumpta," Peter entered the bar, "Welcome back."  
"Hi," she smiled and took the offered seat beside Brendan.  
Peter looked to Niamh for a clue but she doggedly looked away. Once she'd served the others she finally came over to him, "Can I get a sandwich? I'll take it with me."  
"Sure." She went into the kitchen.  
"You won't stay Father?" Padraig asked, drawing everyone's attention to Peter.  
"I've got to be getting on." He took the sandwich, paid and virtually ran away.

Assumpta found him half submerged under the bonnet of his car. "Hi ya, we didn't really get a chance to talk back there." She looked at what he was doing. "How was your time away?"  
"Okay thanks.  
"Good. Oh, Niamh told me about this tournament thing. It's a great idea."  
"It's a stupid idea. Don't know why I get involved. If people want to waste their lives squabbling with each other, who am I to spoil their fun?" He lifted the battery from the car and put it aside.  
"You're a priest. Spoiling fun is your job." She fell back into their normal habit of conversation but he clearly wasn't going to get on board that train.  
"Right." New battery in.  
"Come on, you're doing it because you care. You're good at bringing people together, helping them make sense of their lives." She folded her arms, turning her head so the wind blew the hair from her face, "It's thanks to you I finally realised that I needed to sort out..."  
"Please," he interrupted, "don't."  
She looked at him, bent over, refusing to look at her, and realised Niamh must have told him.  
"Peter, would you look at me when I'm talking to you?"  
He took his time but eventually turned. Meeting her eyes at such a close proximity was too much. "Assumpta," her name slipped from his lips like a caress - a rather unintentional, almost painful caress.  
What she saw confirmed her suspicion, but also surprised her, scared her.  
"What did Niamh say?"  
"It wasn't her fault - I asked... insisted. I don't suppose he'd be interested in being on the quiz team."  
"He's not here."  
"Oh." Peter kept working away on the car.  
"Tell you what eh, we can get all the tournament takings and put it toward the church roof."  
"Thanks, but there's nothing wrong with the church roof."  
"Oh, right, well maybe we could send father Mac on a pilgrimage," she desperately sought their old habits of conversation, their old friendship, before everything got complicated. "Don't they have any shrines at Alaska?"  
Peter was keeping busy, barely a breath of amusement escaping his lips.  
She sighed, clearly frustrated by his distraction. "Will you be around for dinner?"  
"Actually no, I've already made other arrangements."  
"Oh," She swallowed, now relieved he wasn't looking at her, fully aware just how raw her emotions were.  
"Yeah, I won't be needing the room. But thanks."  
"You're not going to stay in that thing are you?"  
"Why not? Sacraments on wheels. Twenty four hours a day, christenings, confessions..." he left it, not wanting to suggest he'd do their wedding. He finally looked at her again.  
She took the hint. "Right. Let me know if you change your mind." She turned away, struggling to look at him. "I'll see you later."

Peter kept busy between recruiting for the tournament and getting his car working. He managed to avoid Fitzgeralds, not that it was particularly tempting, what with everyone at each others' throats.

He'd chosen a good night to sleep in the sacristy. At twelve forty five the door was wrenched open. Peter wasn't yet sleeping and chased the burglar away with a crack on the knuckles. No clues, Ambrose said, and if Peter hadn't been so desperately keeping any burst of real feeling in check, it would have been all over his face just how shaken he was. As soon as he did get to Fitzgerald's he was straight into it setting up.  
Niamh handed him a beer and interrogated him about his sleeping arrangements. Despite Assumpta's close proximity, he enthusiastically accepted Niamh's offer of their spare room.  
"Where's Leo?"  
Niamh cringed and dashed off.  
"In London probably."  
Peter looked confused.  
"I broke it off."  
He tried not to show his relief but his eyes gave him away. "Sorry, I just assumed."  
She shook her head.  
He took a long deep drink of his lager.  
"You alright? I heard the sacristy was broken into."  
"Good thing I was there."  
"Good thing you weren't hurt." She corrected him.  
He sighed and the timely arrival of McLogan's team pulled Assumpta's attention from him.

Peter welcomed everyone and introduced the singing event, managing not to be rattled by Father Mac's timely entry. The first song, on the other hand, rattled him to the core.  
By the third verse he was biting back tears.  
"Forgive me love  
If I forsook you  
I was mistaken..."  
He could feel her looking at him.  
"But what cannot be cured  
love must be endured."  
He looked up and met her eyes as she turned away.  
"...till the day i die."  
Peter was relieved when Padraig waved him away - only to concede the competition it turned out. But at least Peter had another minute to get himself together.  
Assumpta brought out the yard of Ale and, despite his intention to do his job tonight, to not be distracted by her, he watched, adored, remembered every torturous and tantalizing moment. Had he gone wrong somewhere? Missed some opportunity to change his course? Did he still have a choice?

The games went on and Fitzgeralds' team made up their losses in the final quiz.  
As the night wound down, pretending like nothing was amiss, Peter stepped up to the bar.  
"Well done," Assumpta smiled, as if she'd been unaware of him all evening, "We've raised enough money to send Father Mac to the moon."  
This time he smiled. "And everyone seems to be talking again."  
"I was beginning to like the peace and quiet."  
"You're in the wrong business."  
She laughed. "Serving liquor, listening to people's problems."  
"Not all that different from what I do."  
"Now that you mention it."  
He took a sip of his drink to cover his grin.  
"Come on Father," Niamh put her jacket on and nodded toward the door.  
"Ah, right. Thanks," he left his half finished drink on the bar, "I really don't need it. See you,"  
Assumpta nodded with a smile, finally feeling things might be back to normal between them. Whatever that was.

Brian's untimely homelessness rendered Peter again on the street half an hour later. He looked up St Josephs, then down the road at Fitzgeralds. The lights were still on and there would be a room available - no doubt. Two questions popped into his head - and not in the order they should. First - what would Father Mac say if he heard? Second - was it wise?  
Peter yawned. He really needed a good night sleep.  
"Don't you ever just want to leave it till morning?" He called, letting himself in.  
Assumpta appeared in the kitchen door, "They get worse overnight and the dish fairies don't often visit. I thought you were staying at Niamh's."  
"Didn't work out."  
She cocked her head to one side.  
"Brian's house was repossessed."  
"Oh," She cringed for him.   
"Don't suppose you still have a room?"  
"Yeah," she nodded, "of course. She walked around the bar and met him at the bottom of the stairs. "Here," she held out a key and gave him directions.  
"Thanks. Can I help with all this?"  
"No, I'm almost done. You go ahead."  
"Sure?"  
"Peter, you look exhausted. Go on."  
He ascended the stairs, trying to understand why he was disappointed. Letting himself into the dark room he found the light and put down his small bag. He'd stayed at Fitzgeralds once before - nearly two years earlier. That had been a much smaller room. This one had a big bed, a bookshelf, and a very cozy looking armchair. He could quite happily live here.

He was woken by a knock on his door at eight-thirty the next morning. Seeing the time, he got up flustered. He had Mass at nine.  
He opened the door then realised he was only wearing boxers and an old tshirt.  
"Sorry to wake you - I wasn't sure if you wanted a wake up call and thought, since it's Sunday..."  
"Thank you so much."  
"Well, breakfast is downstairs when you want it." She tried not to look at his state of undress, nodded and left him to get ready.  
He came down in his usual black clothes, but had left the top shirt button undone, the collar sitting in his top pocket. "I have to be up there at nine." He perched at the bar and took the coffee she offered.  
"Sleep okay?"  
"Oh," He smiled, "So good."  
"I'm glad."  
He drank his coffee quickly had to leave almost immediately in order to robe up and not be entirely scattered when he faced his congregation.

After the service he changed and walked back down to Fitzgerald's. It was busy, as usual, with their mutual customers. He perched at the bar.  
"What can I get you Father?" Assumpta held up the coffee jug and on his nod poured him a cup. "Breakfast usually comes with a room, but since you missed it, Lunch is on me."  
"Thanks," he looked at her quizzically, taking the cup of coffee. "Baked potato then."  
She put the plate in front of him but couldn't stick around as other customers called on her.  
Niamh joined him at the bar, apologizing for the previous night.  
"It's okay Niamh. I'll sort something out."  
"You didn't sleep in the Sacristy again?"  
He shook his head, taking a sip of hot coffee. "Stayed here."  
"Oh, good." She didn't look so sure that it was good.  
A couple of mouthfuls later he turned to her, aware that not only Father Mac might be less than happy to know he was living at Fitzgerald's. "But I do need to find something a bit more suitable."  
"I'll ask around Father."  
Assumpta had joined them again and was giving him a look as he thanked Niamh. Niamh then left and he turned back to his food.  
"Suitable for what?"  
He exhaled and looked at her. "Best night's sleep I've had in a long time. But I can't afford it, nor would it go over well with..."  
"Yeah." She conceded. "So, what, back to camping in the church?"  
He smiled wryly and took a sip of his coffee.  
"Peter," she was clearly concerned.  
He looked into her eyes. Her compassion and concern would not help. His parishoners made up most of her customers right then. He certainly couldn't continue the bent this conversation seemed to be taking. She got the hint and went to serve someone else. A while later he thanked her and left with as few words as possible. Last night they'd slipped back into their old friendship. Today however, it became only clearer, that their old friendship was not a solution. 


	4. Personal Call

Father Mac's heart attack probably could not have come at a better time. Peter tried to stay away from Fitzgeralds but, despite his attempts, he couldn't get on with life as if she weren't there. Between her woman's group and his lack of suitable accommodation he was forced to think of her at every turn.

She was all too aware of his avoiding her. Unfortunately he was not so absent from her thoughts. When he did come into Fitzgerald's she couldn't help but bait him - if he were fighting with her, at least he was there. This time was easy. He was forwarding complaints about her woman's group.  
"I've had no complaints."  
"That's because you're not the one that the busy-bodies complain to. I've had an earful."  
"Well, that's your job Peter, caring and listening." She knew she was being harsh but quickly moved on, realizing which busy-body he spoke of. "So, she's the one who's been destroying my posters." She excused herself and tore across the street.  
While there was action to be taken, she took it, but come evening Peter's expression and her harshness still haunted her. She needed to get out.  
Once she got outside she kept going. It was a cool evening, but still and clear. The church looked beautiful and haunting, drawing her unwilling attention. The sacristy door was open, the light on inside. As if drawn by her thought, he stepped through the door.  
She couldn't read his features clearly, but watched as he turned to face the church and looked up. As if giving up, he returned inside. She stopped, out of concern for him or the need to heel the breech between them, and followed him inside.  
He walked up the aisle and rested, frustrated and exhausted at the front of the church.  
_Why are you downcast, oh my soul, why so disturbed within me?_ The memory came from no where. It was a psalm, he couldn't be certain which one. How did it continue? _Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my saviour and my God._ Huh. Hope in God. Hope for what - less tangible things like peace perhaps, more tangible, like rest, a good night's sleep... wouldn't hurt. Other hopes, less likely to be found in liturgy, he pushed from his mind.  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
He turned, surprised. What was this, an answer to prayer? "What?"  
"Whatever has you looking knackered." She walked to the front of the church without a look at the altar.  
"You think talking solves everything, don't you?"  
"Well, a trouble shared." She shrugged, stopping in front of him. She wanted to know, she really did. But he wasn't going to talk. He turned away and her biting response covered her frustration, "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. Priests only talk to God."  
"I haven't got the strength Assumpta."  
His honesty surprised her but he quickly sought a lighter tone.  
"Most of it's your fault anyway."  
"Look, I..." What did he mean?  
"No, I mean, I'm living in the Sacristy, I've a lot on my mind, and I don't need half the parish upset, coming up to me about your woman's group."  
Just that - all this for her silly group that no one even came to - except Niamh of course.  
"I know it's stupid. But you put ideas in their heads." Her turned to the front, suddenly angry - and it had nothing to do with the woman's group, or anything else she had control over. "You put ideas in people's heads."  
His accusation took her back. She saw the pain and frustration in his eyes and the strain in his features as he tried to keep his emotions in check.  
"You just don't think, do you Assumpta."  
She backed away. This was too much. What could she do? Woman's group aside, she was causing him pain by her very presence. "I'm sorry."  
"Yeah."  
She stopped, her back to him. "Peter," she didn't want to push him, only to show that she cared, that she was there for him, however he needed her to be.  
"What?"  
"You can tell anything to a friend."  
"Priests don't have those kind of friends."  
Now it was her turn to bite back a much stronger reaction and walk away.  
As soon as she was out the door, he realised he'd been cruel, missed his chance, and carelessly pushed her away. He followed her out, "Assumpta, wait."  
She turned at the gate, steeling herself for whatever was coming.  
He wasn't sure what to say but the invitation need not be spoken. She walked back to the doorway and he stepped aside for her to go in. They sat side by side in a back pew.  
She waited for him to speak, afraid that if she spoke first she'd only cause him further pain.  
"You want to go back - to how we've always been."  
"I don't know what I want Peter." She admitted it to herself as much as him.  
"No?"  
"No. But I do know I've missed you these past weeks. You been busy?"  
He looked at her, surprised, confused. "Yeah, I guess.  
She sighed. "Or avoiding me."  
He looked down.  
"Look, no one came anyway. Niamh and I hardly need posters to get together and complain about various members of the community. Consider that problem... solved."  
"It's a good idea."  
She shook her head.  
"It is. Just, I don't know, maybe there's another way to go about it."  
"Funny, that's what Kathleen said - well, except for the good idea bit."  
He was clearly thinking about something else.  
"Peter, I don't know what to do. I mean, does it make any difference if I'm in Ballyk or London, married or all on my own?"  
He looked up at the altar, afraid of his own answer.  
"I'm hurting you - I know it. Do you want me to leave?"  
"If I wanted you to leave there wouldn't be a problem."  
She let that sink in and sighed. "Something's got to change."  
He finally looked at her. "I need to think."  
She nodded and stood. "And pray, right?"  
He smiled at her. "Worth a try."  
Her breath caught in her throat. "Yeah, it might be." She looked at the floor, then to the front of the church. "Goodnight."

She walked further that night, not certain that she was praying at such, but if God were there, his presence was more tangible outdoors, and with Peter at the forefront of her mind it was something like a prayer for him, without exact words.


	5. Lost Sheep

Peter walked a lot. Now that Father Mac was back on his feet things were less hectic. He had a lot to think about and knew the decision must be between him and God. If he could only be certain of his path, and certain his decision did not go against God, then he could fight whatever battles ensued with the church, or Assumpta, or all of the above.

That morning he felt he was going in circles. Solitude served its purpose some days better than others. Fitzgerald's wasn't open yet - too early for a coffee - but the door was open. He looked in and saw the mess. Assumpta came through from the kitchen and took another armful back to the mounting pile of dishes - he could imagine.  
"I know it's early," he stepped inside and called out, "But I'm willing to earn my coffee."  
She came back through. "Machine's not on yet."  
"That's alright, I haven't earned it yet." He picked up a couple of glasses and flicked the coffee machine switch as he walked past into the kitchen.  
"You haven't earned it still - two glasses?" She followed him. "But I do take cash."  
"I think you need the help."  
"Which kind would that be?" She put dishes in the sink.  
He rolled his eyes at her.  
With a sigh, she accepted.  
Padraig knocked at the front door, "Is-ah Nancy up yet?"  
"Yeah, she's just having her breakfast. You can empty the ash trays while you're waiting."  
Peter looked at Padraig, amused.  
"What is this, a working bee?" Padraig perched himself at the bar.  
"Act of charity." Assumpta called back. "Cup of tea Padraig?"  
"Sure, why not? I heard what happened Father. No permanent damage I hope." Peter had had a sprinkler through his door - aimed at Quigley of course - and currently all his front room furniture was drying on the side of the road.  
"No."  
"What happened?" Assumpta kept moving but there was concern in her voice.  
Still working, Peter explained.  
Leaving Padraig in the bar they each carried another load to the sink.  
"You should have said something. You don't need to help with this. You've enough on your plate."  
"I don't mind - really - it's nice to feel like I can actually do something to help someone."  
"Peter-" she warned him wordlessly against self-pity.

Brendan came in as Peter sat down with his cup of coffee. Peter asked about his plans to leave Ballyk. Nothing was firm and set but he seemed keen on some change, despite Peter's affirmations that he'd be missed.  
"No one's irreplaceable Peter."  
Peter thought for a moment. "I don't think that's true at all."  
Brendan shrugged and nodded farewell with an appreciative smile. On his way out the door Siobhan came in. He bumped into her and she went off at him, "Maybe you should think about where you're going."  
She saw Peter, his concerned and shocked expression speaking volumes. Sitting down without ordering a thing, she told him of her concerns about becoming a mother.  
Peter could see why she'd have reservations, but thought she'd be fantastic. "From where I'm sitting, you're a level headed woman, with a lot of experience, a good job, and a kind heart."  
"Ah Father, don't go saying things like that to me now."  
"It's true." he shook his head, trying to convince her.  
"I suppose I just thought my chance had gone. Now here it is."  
Assumpta stood silently at the kitchen door, unnoticed by either.  
Siobhan went on, "Life is never how you plan it, is it."  
There was no doubt he wordlessly agreed. "It's an opportunity not granted to everyone Siobhan." He was struggling, but Siobhan wasn't watching for it. Assumpta didn't have to see his face to know it. "So what about the father?" he went on.  
"Ah, lets not talk about him just now." Siobhan got up, "I better get on, oh, hullo 'Sumpta. I'll see you later."  
Padraig returned to the bar without Nancy and asked Peter to go with him. Peter nodded to Assumpta, thanked her for the coffee and left.

That evening he returned, Nancy with him. Padraig, her possible father, invited them to sit with him and Peter went to get drinks.  
"Hi," Assumpta smiled, "thanks for this morning - I didn't really get to thank you earlier."  
"Was nothing."  
"Father I'll get those," Siobhan joined him, "It's my round."  
"That's a pint of lager and a brandy, thanks Siobhan."  
She gave the money to Assumpta and turned to Peter.  
He read her expression easily. "Oh, that's great news."  
"Tell that to your congregation."  
"I will."  
"You might at that."  
Peter laughed as Kiaran cried, in his buggy at the end of the bar.  
Assumpta looked from the beer, mid-pour, to Kiaran.  
"I got it." Peter went and picked him up, taking him through to the quiet of the kitchen.  
She smiled a silent thanks as he passed her.

Peter held Kiaran in his hands, bobbing him up and down, gently playing with his downy hair. Assumpta came through and he was calm.  
"You're a natural."  
Peter laughed. "Wasted talent." He lifted Kiaran up in the air, "But there's always babysitting."  
"I can take him." She could hear something in Peter's tone that wasn't entirely consistent with the easiness of his words.  
"Can a man get a drink around here?" Someone called from the bar.  
Peter smiled and she returned to the bar.  
She brought his lager to the kitchen when she'd served the customers. "That was yours yeah?"  
"Thanks." He sat at the table, resting the baby on his knee and holding him with one hand, took his drink with the other.  
Seeing that he was staying where he was she sat down. "So you're working for all your drinks now?"  
He laughed.  
"Although, Siobhan got that one, so I owe you."  
"No you don't."  
She made herself a cup of tea. "So much for a night at the pub then?"  
"It's been a long day. Kiaran's easy company."  
"Should I leave you to it?"  
"No, no - I mean, unless you need to."  
"Peter, relax. If you want to sit back here, you're welcome. And you don't have to be babysitting, or doing dishes."  
He nodded, looking into her eyes and working up the courage to speak. "I made a decision."  
"Assumpta!" Someone called her again.  
She looked toward the bar then back to Peter. "I'm sorry."  
"No, go."  
She went through to the bar and while she was away Niamh came to pick up Kiaran.  
"Oh, thank you Father."  
"He's been a godsend." Assumpta leaned on the door frame, watching.  
"It was nothing," Peter put Kiaran in the pram and asked after Niamh's evening.  
She told him of their dinner as they returned to the bar, then Niamh and Ambrose said goodnight.  
Assumpta waved them away, "So, another lager then?"  
Peter nodded, then on Padraig's invitation joined the others at the end of the bar.

"No way," Assumpta took the glasses from his hands. "Not twice in one day. Sit down."  
"Assumpta..." He looked around, unconvinced.  
"Yeah?"  
With a sigh he sat down. "Want me to lock the door then? Wouldn't want you losing your license for a priest."  
"Thanks," she called from the kitchen then came through to the bar. "Can I get you something?"  
"Probably not a wise idea."  
She smiled and poured herself a glass of wine. "Come through here. Don't want Ambrose getting over excited." She turned off the lights in the bar and followed Peter through to the kitchen. "So," She took a deep breath, entirely uncertain if she were ready for what was coming.  
He looked at her, wondering how to begin.  
She sat down with her glass of wine while he remained standing, leaning against the bench.  
"I'm going to leave the priesthood."  
For a moment she looked surprised, then she smiled but that was soon chased away by concern. "Right." She took a deep breath, "I was in here earlier today and heard to you talking to Brendan, and later Siobhan. You're very good at what you do."  
"That's just being a friend - I don't need to be a priest to help people."  
"True." She stood up and paced down the kitchen, turning to face him from the far end.  
"It's not fair - it's not right for me to go on lying to... my congregation."  
She looked unconvinced.  
"To you."  
She turned her head to the dark window reflecting the lights in the kitchen.  
"To me."  
She looked back at him. "Peter, what is it you want?"  
"I want to do what's right."  
"By who?"  
"You." His answer was immediate but incomplete. "And the church."  
"And if that's not possible?" She watched his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh. His struggle bothered her and when she spoke her voice was low, "You can't love us both." She heard herself a moment later and turned away with a barely audible apology.  
"No, you're right." He went to her, touched her arm briefly, as if it burned him. "Is it possible you don't know how I feel about you?"  
"How would I know that?" She finally looked at him and saw pure disbelief in his eyes.  
"I think about you every minute of every day." He turned away, frustrated or ashamed, she wasn't sure. "I go through the motions, and its not that I don't believe in what I do, it's just... I shouldn't be constantly thinking of you."  
She smiled and he saw it in the window's reflection, looking up as if hypnotized by her. She put a hand on his back, fingers resting against the soft space between shoulder blade and spine. "Do you know, I almost married Leo just to try and get you out of my head."  
He turned with a confused smile, his eyes asking her to keep talking, to explain.  
"I didn't because you kept popping into me head."  
He laughed in a breath and stopped paralyzed by the vision before him. Between a tauntingly soft-looking neck and wild shiny hair, her eyes laughed and rosy lips curved in nervous anticipation, corners dimpling with an unspilled joy.  
She ran her fingertips down his cheek, then the back of her fingers, her breathing irregular, pulse quickening.  
"I've spent the last several weeks," He tried to keep his composure, "months probably, trying to convince myself that I could live without this - without you."  
She let her hand drop, fingers trailing down his shirt, breaking contact to take hold of his hand, leaving him tantalized. "Don't."  
"I couldn't."  
"You'll never get to heaven if you break my heart." She looked up at him and stepped closer, just close enough so that if either breathed in deeply they would touch.  
His expression was one of open adoration, brushing the hair from her face and kissing her forehead, pausing there, savouring the sensation of being so close.  
She ran her hands around his waist and up his back, exploring the contours, enjoying the warmth coming through his clothing.  
"I love you." He whispered into her hair.  
She pulled him closer, on tip toes, hugging him tight, afraid to speak. She kissed his neck and finding the skin soft, did so again. Then she pulled back to look him in the eye.  
He nodded to confirm any question she might have.  
Her smile virtually glowed.  
He couldn't help but look at her lips, her eyes then her lips, both giving away her relief, excitement, and joy. As if instinctive he went to kiss her, hesitating only once it was perfectly obvious what he'd meant to do.  
She smiled forgivingly, reached up and met his lips tentatively, once. "I love you Peter," she whispered, then kissed him again.  
He opened his mouth, finally kissing back, no less than shocked at the reaction he felt throughout his being. He tried to pull away but gave in, pulling her roughly to him, their kisses becoming less awkward and less inhibited. She also, momentarily, thought it might be wise to put some space between them, but until he had the same thought at the same moment, neither succeeded in thinking it long enough to succeed.  
Breathless and disheveled, a full foot of space between them, feeling like a very conservative distance, they looked at each other, impressed, slightly embarrassed, and wondering what the other was thinking.  
"Well if I wasn't sure before..." he tried to lighten the mood.  
"What?"  
"No, I was. Sorry." He tried to pace his breathing. "I think I just learned a new boundary of my self control."  
She laughed, still catching her breath. "Any time I can be of service."  
"Careful, I might take you up on that."  
"Be my guest."  
"Oh, I am so out of my depth."  
She smiled. "No you're not. I'm not inviting you upstairs."  
"Good. I'm not sure I'd say no."  
She smiled cheekily, "Good."  
"And on that note," he took a step, closed the gap between them and taking her face in his hand kissed her once briefly. "Good night." 


	6. Peace and Quiet

Peter lay in bed restless. He couldn't stop grinning, then laughing in joy and disbelief, then his mind would wander thoughtfully back to all he'd said and done that evening. Everything had changed in such a short time - and now there was so much to be done. Suddenly his mood dropped a notch or two. Tomorrow he had to contact Father Mac. Nothing fun, or funny, about that. He wondered if his superior would be surprised. If he was he probably wouldn't show it. His mind wandered back to Assumpta's kitchen - how he'd touched her, how she'd touched him, the things she'd said, the look on her face...

Mid morning the following day Peter was knelt at the altar, desperately seeking some peace and waiting for Father Mac's visit. Sitting still was not working so he got up and walked around, tidying as he went. He paused at the open bible. It was open to John and a verse caught his eye, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."  
With a sigh he looked up at the crucifix - an image of torture rather than peace. Though incomparable, torture might be the more appropriate word to describe his relationship with Assumpta.  
Father Mac's footsteps pulled his attention from the image, and he was surprised at the peace he felt. He was in the middle now - too late to pull back, nothing would he change, and the only thing, then, was to go on as best he could. Like the eye of the storm.  
"Good morning Father."  
"Father MacAnally. Thank you for coming."  
"I was coming anyway, but you had something you specifically wished to talk to me about."  
With a deep breath Peter nodded and stepped down to the aisle.  
"Are you going to tell me what it is or would you like me to guess?"  
"No - I... I have made a decision."  
"Ah."  
"What?"  
"Go on."  
Peter exhaled and sat down. After a moment Father Mac joined him. Then he went on, "I have decided to leave."  
Father Mac did look surprised. "You are certain?"  
"Yes."  
"I must admit, that was not what I was expecting. You want to leave Ballykissangel?"  
"No - I mean... I meant," the peace was waning, "I am leaving the priesthood."  
With a slow nod Father Mac said, "oh," and left if open for Peter to continue.  
"I would appreciate your cooperation in this, but you should know the decision is made."  
"Yes I imagine it is. I will not stand in your way."  
"Thank you."  
"That's not to say it will go over particularly well in the community."  
"I'm aware of that - these things take time."  
"Then you plan to stay in Ballyk?"  
Peter nodded.  
"And..."  
"No fixed plans as yet."  
"I was not asking about your career prospects. I am assuming I am not the only person aware of this decision."  
"Ah, no. I have spoken to one other."  
"Assumpta Fitzgerald is probably not the only one who could predict this."  
"She was surprised."  
"Huh - love is blind, as they say. So you will stay in Ballyk, with her - I think you should be aware of the stir this is going to create."  
Peter took a deep breath. He hadn't really thought further than Father Mac's reaction. Others in the community... Brendan, Siobhan, Padraig, Michael, Ambrose, Niamh- Niamh would be shocked - probably upset too. He remembered Kiaran's coming christening. It was a difficult decision. "I know it will be difficult but we will simply have to take each obstacle as it comes. I will speak to Niamh about the Christening."  
"That shouldn't be a problem."  
Peter nodded and they went on to discuss logistics - paperwork, accommodation, duties.

When Father Mac left Peter returned to St Josephs. He was hungry and his cupboards were empty but he wasn't ready to face the crowd at Fitzgeralds and so he tried to ignore his rumbling stomach, kneeling again at the altar. It was really happening now - the wheels were set in motion. It was terrifying, and exhilarating. He could barely sit still for excitement, but craved peace.

Once again, footsteps shocked him out of his reverie. He turned, half expecting Father Mac to have returned with something he forgot to mention. Instead he found Assumpta standing bashfully at the end of the aisle. She had stopped hearing how loud her own footsteps were in the quiet church. She did not see him till he stood. With a small smile she stepped forward. He waited, watching her. Her eyes lifted from him to the images behind him, returning to his face when she was only a few feet from him.  
"Hi." Her voice unintentionally came out a whisper.  
"Hello." He followed her gaze as it returned to the images.  
"It may come as a surprise, but I can understand why this all means so much to you."  
He swallowed, unsure how, or if, to answer her.  
She took a deep breath and sat in a pew. "I..." she looked down at her knees, fiddling with a ring. "I know - well I don't really."  
He sat in the pew in front of her, watching her intently.  
"Peter, if you need to..." her breaths were quick and shallow, hands fiddling furiously, eyes darting from him, to the altar, her hands, his hands on the back of the seat... "You don't have to give all this up. I'll understand - well, as much as I can."  
Understanding dawned. "Assumpta, look at me."  
She obliged, trying to hide her distress.  
"I'm not changing my mind. Yes, my faith is important but I have no plans to leave it behind with the collar. " He lowered his voice, aware they were in an open church. "I love you. I want to spend my life with you. That's not going to change."  
She searched his eyes, her breathing calming. Eventually she smiled, then looked back behind him again. "I have been in this church more in the last two years than in the ten or so before that."  
Peter smiled.  
"Never have I felt so in need of divine assistance."  
He laughed. "I'm not sure I want to claim responsibility."  
She met his gaze. "Possibly not for the reasons you intended."  
"No, I suppose not. Though it might yet turn out okay."  
"I hope so." She touched his chest then pulled her hand back, remembering their location. She sighed.  
"Who's looking after the bar?"  
"Niamh."  
"Did you tell her?"  
"No. Well, I told her I needed some peace and quiet. She said I should try St Josephs - I don't think she expected me to follow her advice. But I should probably head back."  
"Anything like lunch left?"  
"Yeah - probably."  
"I'll change first - won't be long."  
She nodded, reluctant to leave a church for the first time in her memory.  
He looked around quickly then brushed the side of her face with tentative fingertips.  
She turned her face to kiss the palm of his hand.  
Reluctantly he pulled his hand away, fingers still tingling. "I told Father Mac this morning."  
She nodded once. "I suspected as much. He stopped in - he didn't say anything. I just had a feeling."  
"He's not going to stand in our way."  
She sighed. "One down."  
"How do you think people will react?"  
She shrugged. "I wouldn't expect a parade."  
"I guess we'll see. I need to speak to Niamh and Ambrose as I won't be able to christen Kiaran. I plan to tell everyone else after my homily next sunday - about my leaving the church, of course. How we'll tell them about us..."  
"We can talk about it later." With a nod she stepped back. "I guess I should get used to this - keeping my distance."  
He took a deep breath and shook his head.  
"Well, at least while you're wearing that and in a church."  
"That sounds more reasonable."

---

Peter ate his lunch at the end of the bar, newspaper in his hand to ward off conversations. People seemed to take the hint and he ate in peace while the lunch crowd emptied out. Assumpta was easily kept busy and avoided him for fear of giving too much away. It seemed to take forever for her customers to leave - while she usually hoped they'd stay and make another purchase. Peter had finally found an interesting article at that point and didn't even notice. She smiled at him and kept clearing tables.

He relocated to the kitchen when he realised the bar was empty. Assumpta was at the sink, up to her elbows in dishes. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. She jumped then laughed. "Hi."  
In response he kissed her ear, her cheek, her neck. He ran his hands down her arms. "I love you."  
She let her head drop back, eyes closing, skin tingling. "Little distracting."  
"All work." He captured her mouth and distracted her further.  
She turned and placed wet and bubbly hands on his chest, pausing for a moment to smile, then running them over his shoulders, pulling him close. "How long can you stay for?"  
"Maybe an hour."  
"Excellent." she reached behind him and grabbed a tea towel, draping it over his shoulder. With a cheeky kiss she went back to the dishes. 


	7. Crashing Down Around

Outside the weather had turned. Icy wind buffetted Peter up the hill to his home. He could hear the phone ringing from the letterbox and ran up the path, getting inside and picking it up just in time.  
"Hello," he puffed into the receiver.  
"Hello?"  
"Hi, Peter - Father Clifford..." He tried to recover.  
"It's alright Peter. It's Mark."  
"Oh, sorry, just ran up the path to get the phone."  
"What have I interrupted?"  
"Not a thing. How are ya?"  
"Oh, I'm fine. You got a minute?"  
"Sure." Peter pulled up a chair and got comfortable. "Shoot."  
"Right, well hold on, how are you?"  
"Oh, you know, the usual."  
"Happily serving God and man in a perfect picture of priesthood."  
Peter sighed, not sure what to say.  
"Not so much then?"  
"Long story. You first."  
"Goodness me, must be bad."  
"So what's happening?" Peter tactlessly changed the subject.  
"Right," too much hesitation for good news, "well, Mum had a check up yesterday and all is not well."  
"Oh. She okay?" He inadvertently leaned forward in his chair.  
Mark sighed, "No. Not really. You should probably come home. Soon."  
"Right." Peter's head was chaotic. He could hardly just pack and go. He had to call Father Mac and then Brian, organise what needed to be done while he was away - and without any idea how long he'd be away. Blurred through all this was intense panic - his mum, always there, no matter how distant.  
"You there?" Mark said.  
"Yeah, sorry. I'll be over as soon as I can. Give you a call tomorrow and let you know flights and things."  
"Okay. See you soon big brother."  
"Alright. Say hi to Mum for me."  
Peter put the receiver back on the hook and sat back in his chair. As soon as he got his head straight enough to move he started packing. He knew he'd have nothing he needed if he did this now and stopped part way through. Flights. He flicked open a phone book and found airlines. Systematically he called through the short list and found only one with a direct flight tomorrow. He could not afford it - not really - but he didn't have much of a choice.  
His room was a mess of packing but his head was too chaotic to deal with it. The flight was in the evening and he'd have time yet. Better to wait and do it properly.  
A walk. Sure, it might help. He put on his jacket and wandered down the road. The street lights had come on - it was dark enough with the dirty clouds closing in around the area. The warm lights from Fitzgerald's windows invited him in.  
It was busy again and he was greeted by several people as he entered. He looked around for Assumpta - she must be in the back.  
"Everything okay Father?" Brendan patted him on the back. "Can I get you something?"  
Peter shook his head.  
Assumpta chose that moment to enter. Her face lit up on seeing him. "What can I get you Peter?"  
"Ah, I'm fine thanks."  
She paused, confused by his expression.  
"You okay?"  
He started to nod then thought the better of it. "Can I talk to you a moment?"  
With a barely perceptible nod she headed toward reception and met him there. "What's wrong?"  
"My Mum..." he took a deep breath trying to calm himself and failing under the powerful concern in her eyes, "she's unwell - I just got a call from Mark - that's my brother - he said I need to come - to go home - to Manchester - flight's tomorrow and I..."  
Without a thought she pulled him into her embrace.  
That was too much for him. Between breathy sobs he managed to explain that he didn't know how long he'd be away, and that he couldn't think straight to pack, and couldn't bring himself to call Father Mac.  
She rubbed his back and squeezed him tighter then realised they weren't entirely hidden from the view of half of the town. She froze, thought for a moment, then led Peter into her lounge. "I'll be right back." She squeezed his shoulder and returned to the bar. Without hesitation she found herself the object of much attention, mostly expressed in insistent looks, varying from inquisitive to downright accusatory.  
"Everything okay?" Brendan didn't bother with the subtle.  
"Been better. Is Niamh still-?" she didn't need to finish the sentence.  
Niamh marched past her into the kitchen. After a moment Assumpta followed.  
"What in the name of pete is going on?" Niamh didn't hesitate.  
"Please, not now. His mother is ill and he has to go - tomorrow. He's upset - quite understandably."  
"So tell Brendan to take him a drink and comfort him."  
"Niamh, please. Not now."  
"What is going on?"  
Assumpta sighed and sat down. "Look, I'll tell you, but you're not going to like it."  
"What have you done?"  
Assumpta stood up, trying to control her anger. "Excuse me one moment."  
She returned to the lounge and found Peter setting the kindling on a pile of screwed up newspaper in the fireplace. "Let me."  
"It's fine. Where are the matches?"  
"Under the shell."  
He looked up and saw what she meant.  
She watched him work for a moment, until the noise from the bar reminded her of thirsty punters and potential chaos. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back."  
He turned to say something but she'd gone.  
She saw Niamh was still waiting in the kitchen but went first to the bar and filled every order, one after the other, at record speed. When she returned to the kitchen she was trying to catch her breath and had run out of patience.  
"Can you watch the bar?"  
"Not till you've explained."  
"He's leaving the church."  
"What?"  
"Leaving the priesthood. Look Niamh, I know you'll disagree with it but the decision is made. He was going to tell everyone on Sunday but I suppose he'll be in Manchester now. He wanted to tell you himself - that he can't do Kiaran's christening. The decision wasn't lightly made - trust me. The man tortures himself..." She turned away, her voice dropping but still heard, "and me."  
"So he's dropping everything? For you?"  
Assumpta was hardly comfortable with the idea herself yet. With a grim look she nodded tightly.  
"And you love him - oh, this is good. Assumpta Fitzgerald falls for the priest. God, the irony."  
"Look Niamh, now is not the time. Will you watch the bar. He needs me now. I'll try to explain later, I'll even sit there while you laugh at the irony."  
"Alright, go." Niamh didn't stand up, her shock perfectly apparent.  
Assumpta paused. "Thank you." She put her hand out but Niamh pulled hers away.  
"This is going to take a while to get used to."  
Ignoring the echoes of anger that were returning she walked out of the kitchen directly to the lounge.  
Peter was kneeling in front of the grate, watching the flames and fiddling with the poker, rearranging burning logs.  
She knelt beside him. "Good work."  
"Dry wood."  
She nodded. "I'll call Father Mac. He already knows about us so what difference does it make?"  
Peter smiled. "Thanks, but I can do it. Can I use your phone?"  
She got up and brought it through, trailing the chord across the hall, hoping no one would go past and trip. "You sure?"  
With a nod he dialled.  
"God, you poor thing. You've his number to memory."  
She got the smile she wanted and rubbed his back briefly before taking a seat on the couch.  
"Father, it's Peter Clifford."  
"Again?"  
"Yeah, I've, uh, had some bad news." Peter took a deep breath and ploughed on, "My mother is ill and I need to see her."  
"Oh, right. Is it serious?"  
Peter mumbled an affirmative.  
"Alright, I'll cover you. Any idea how long you'll be? And when will you say your piece to your congregation? I don't think I should inform them of your decision."  
Peter thought for a moment. "I can't stay until sunday."  
"Well you have two choices. Wait till your return, or write something and I'll pass it on."  
Looking into the fire, as if for a sign, Peter sighed. "I'll write something."  
Father Mac inquired after his travel plans then said good night.  
Shoulders slumped, Peter put the phone back on the hook, picked it up and left the room to replace it, removing the trip hazard from the hall. He returned to find Assumpta bent over the fire.  
He watched her for a moment, admiring the grace she moved with. Then he noticed the noise coming through from the bar. "Who's minding the bar?"  
She turned and sat on the couch. "Niamh."  
"Oh," he sat beside her, "Did they notice...?"  
Assumpta nodded. "I told her - only Niamh."  
He nodded. "This is going to go down like a tonne of bricks."  
"Give them time. I think you'll find people will get used to the idea eventually. I'm just jealous you get to take off to England and miss the brunt of it."  
"You could come with me."  
She stared into the fire, considering the possibility. What would they all think of that? She hated that 'what they all thought' was her first consideration. "Not for that reason." People could think what they liked - so long as they didn't vote with their feet and put her out of business. Even then... No, she hoped it wouldn't come to that. "If you want me to come - sure."  
"You can't just pack up and go. I'm fine," he saw she was unconvinced, "I'll be fine."  
She put an arm around him, and kissed his shoulder. "Peter..."  
"I'm sorry about before, I just - I could have had a little more... something."  
"It's not important."  
"I'm not usually like this." He put his head in his hands, rubbed his forehead.  
"These things don't happen every day."  
"Yeah, but I..." He exhaled, "I suppose I'm not used to having someone."  
"Well I'm not going anywhere, so go ahead and get used to it."  
He turned and smiled at her, remembering all the things that had made him ecstatic the day before. "You know what I'm looking forward to? Having you to myself - no audience, no interruptions - I mean not - that's not what I meant."  
She put her hand over his, "It's okay Peter, I know what you mean."  
"It shouldn't be so difficult, having to hold it all back, I mean. I've years of practice."  
"At least you have an excuse. Although falling in love with a priest? On second thought, that's a good enough reason for me."  
He grabbed her hand before she slipped it away, reluctant for the moment to end.  
She met his gaze, stroked his face with trembling fingertips, "I can pack up and go, I'll figure something out."  
He was wavering. He wanted, perhaps even needed her to be there. And he wanted to introduce her to his family.  
"Begin as we mean to go on. Was there another seat on that flight?"  
He took a deep breath. "I don't know. I'll call them tomorrow." He searched her face, "Are you sure?  
She nodded, took his face between her hands and, as if signing the deal, kissed him.  
A loud knock at the half-open door shocked them apart. "I can't find the next brandy." Niamh didn't bother to hide the look of disgust from her face.  
Peter turned and watched Assumpta go. Niamh stayed a moment longer, as if she considered saying something, then changed her mind and turned.  
"Niamh, wait."  
She stopped, her back to him, on the threshold.  
"I need to talk to you about the christening."  
She waited several moments before deciding, turned and took a seat on the opposite side of the room. "You won't do it? Probably for the best."  
"Niamh, I'm not doing this on a whim."  
She stared into the shrinking flames behind the grate.  
"I know this will come as a shock and people won't be overjoyed - but it's better this way. As your priest, you've all been honest with me. I need to be honest with you."  
"It's not that simple."  
He looked at the glowing coals and flickers of flame, got up and stirred them, adding another log. "No, it's not."  
"I just hope you know what you're getting yourselves into. You're sacrificing everything."  
"Niamh..."  
"What if it doesn't work?"  
"We'll make it work. Please," He was emotionally exhausted and everything was closer to the surface than usual. "I just... I know it will take a while for people to adjust, but try to understand. I - we - have tried everything. We've made each other miserable."  
Niamh stood up. "And you... you love each other?"  
Peter looked her in the eye and nodded.  
"So you're leaving the church and giving up everything to live - and probably work - behind a bar - no less, with someone who would sooner burn a bible than open one."  
His shoulders slumped as he knelt in front of the fire. He didn't have the energy. Assumpta's hostility towards his faith was not something he took lightly, he had no answers as to what he would do for a living, and if his mother hadn't been possibly dying it would have sunk in by now just how terrifying all of this change was.  
"A lot of people are going to feel betrayed."  
"What am I supposed to do?" He turned around. "I can't go on pretending. I either had to leave town for good or stay and leave the church. Those were my options. I love it here and I love Assumpta. I just have to hope that you can forgive me for letting you down."  
The expression on her face suggested she'd heard him and her anger was softening. "Give us time."  
He nodded.  
She turned away then stopped. "I hope your Mum's okay." She walked back toward the bar, meeting Assumpta in the hall.  
They eyed each other cautiously.  
"Do you mind watching the bar a little longer?"  
Niamh shook her head. "I... I want you to be happy. Both of you. It's just... not easy for me."  
"I know. I promise I won't sabotage this like I do every other relationship."  
Niamh smiled.  
"He means... everything to me."  
"What was Leo then?"  
"A foolish last ditch attempt to forget Peter."  
"So this has been going on for ages. You've been lying to everyone?"  
"No - nothing has happened. But yes, it has been going on a while."  
Niamh searched her face and found truth. "I better..." she pointed to the bar.  
Assumpta nodded once. "Thanks."  
She found Peter on his knees, stoking the fire. Standing behind him she rubbed his shoulders, crouched down and kissed his head. "How you doing?"  
He nodded silently and turned to face her. "I should go, let you get on. It sounds like busy out there."  
"Will you sleep?"  
"Eventually."  
She gathered him into her arms. "It'll be okay. Eventually it'll all settle down and we'll still be here - and we'll be fine."  
He nodded, squeezing her tightly, thanking her again.  
They stood together and she led him out the reception entrance, avoiding the busy bar.  
She opened the door and turned to him. "Sleep well."  
He took her hands and lifted them to his lips. Then he kissed her forehead before remembering the door was open, and from a seat or two in the bar, if you tilted your head right, you could probably see this. Reluctantly, their hands dropped and she stepped back, putting the appropriate distance between them. With a single nod she silently bid him goodnight and left the door for him to close, returning to the bar and trying to keep restore her composure.  
"Everything okay?" Brendan immediately weakened her defenses. She nodded silently, focusing on the drinks she was making. Niamh said good night and did better - she got eye contact.  
After ten minutes of solid hard work the rush slowed and Assumpta took some dishes out to the kitchen.  
Brendan followed her. "What's happened?"  
Assumpta turned and finding pure concern in his eyes, explained about Peter's mother. He asked a couple of questions then went on to add, "There's more to it than that."  
"I think Peter should tell you himself."  
"But he's going away and I think it's a little to late for that. The door was wide open Assumpta."  
She hesitated a moment, then realised he meant that he'd seen their embrace when Peter had first come in. "Yeah, okay." She explained briefly.  
"Well that's wonderful! About time. You'll finally be happy. But I don't understand - why the long face?"  
Assumpta took a moment to recover from the shock at his joyous response. "His mother is dying."  
"Yeah, but you don't know her."  
She thought a moment. "I've never seen him like that."  
Brendan put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. "Ah, you're in love." He laughed. "It's hell."  
"Is that right?" She pushed him away. "Now when I come to you for advice - well that's when I'll really need it. I'm just wary - not everyone is going to be as pleased as you are."  
"Padraig'll be devastated - twenty quid!" Brendan jumped away from her just in time, realising what he'd let slip. 


End file.
